Pale sun rising, covering the meadow in gauze,
The meadowlarks diving, and buttercups bow awaiting applause
In Huckleberry Hollow.
I tell Johnny, "Boy, I love you more than the sun.
It's feeling so funny withholding my heart and telling no one
In Huckleberry Hollow."
He tells me, "Charlie, I don't see how
Telling a soul would help things now.
Just hold my hand and everything's fine
Here in the meadow, Here in our time."
Distant thunder rolling in from over the hill,
The clouds buckle under; I've never seen heaven looking so ill
In Huckleberry Hollow.
We hum the tune to Shenandoah
Over the howling winds that blow.
We pray by morning it'll be past,
Then to the hills we carry at last.
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